I'll start out by saying that this is fiction and the building dipicted in this story does not exist in way shape or form. It's currently a vacant lot and I don't know what was there before. Oak Town is Royal Oak and Route MI1 is Woodward Avenue which is also referred as M1.

Emily Catalpa stood behind an oak podium in a large room. Behind her were rows of people sitting quietly aside from an occasional cough. In front of her was a row of eight people, four men and four women all wearing business attire, sitting behind a long wood topped desk. To her right was another woman standing at an identical podium.

Emily was in her mid to late twenties with frizzy red hair that fell to slightly below her neck and green eyes. Her fair skin was lightly spotted with freckles especially on the bridge of her nose. She wore a grey business coat and skirt with a white blouse. She straightened the papers in front of her.

The other woman was about ten years Emily’s senior. She had straight dark brown hair that fell to halfway down her back and dark eyes that seemed to squelch any light that dared to get close. Her skin was pale and glossy and seemed to have no differences in coloration. She wore a black business suit with a red blouse underneath. She turned to Emily and a smirk cracked on her red lips.

The oldest man at the long desk cleared his throat. He was easily in his seventies with very little white hair still clinging to the sides of his head. Liver spots speckled his forehead and hands and his tired grey eyes hid behind square reading glasses. He looked at the paper before him and then looked towards the two women standing before him.

“We remain at a deadlock on this issue.” He said in a cackled voice. “Four are in favor in forcing Miss Catalpa to surrender her property under immanent domain, namely the Catalpa Trainer Dorm, to Corona Development Corporation, four, including myself, are against, and one has abstained.”

“Mister Chairman,” the older woman began with a tinge of annoyance in her voice, “my company is losing money everyday you don’t act. Our project promises to bring jobs and income into your community.”

“That may be true Ms. Corona.” The man took off his glasses and placed them on the desk in front of him. “However, the trainer dorm is a cultural icon in Oak Town. It’s been in existence since the depression and is perhaps the most recognizable structure on Route MI1. There was a time I was a resident of it. I can’t in good conscience order it’s destruction for another office building.”

“Mr. Chairman, may I ask why your ninth member refuses to make a decision in this issue?” Miss Catalpa asked.

“They have been out of town and unavailable for the past few days.” The chairman explained. “We’ll…” He was interrupted as a younger man came up to whisper in his ear and handed an envelope to him. He opened the envelope and read the paper inside. “Speak of the devil. He has stated in this letter that he will let his decision be determined by a pokémon battle between the two parties. He said he will be back one week from today.”

“Sir,” Ms. Corona allowed further annoyance to creep into her voice as she shook her head and held her palms up in defiance, “this is a two million dollar project. You can’t allow it to be determined by something as trivial as a pokémon battle.”
“I can, and I will.” The chairman coughed and wheezed a little. “The battle will be held one week from today at the disputed property at noon. This board has spoken.”

Chapter One: Property Fights

Miss Catalpa drove her blue escort on Route MI1. It was twilight and raining heavily. The wipers sloshed water off the windshield and her headlights slashed into the murky darkness. The traffic was heavy as people headed from their places of employment to their homes.
She was unsure. The trainers she had housed were a very talented group of men and women but Ms. Corona could easily pay the best mercenary in Michigan to fight for her. She thought back to her promise to her great grandmother to protect the dorm at all costs.

*********************

Miss Catalpa lived in a world very much like ours. The geography was nearly the same. However, this world was populated by wondrous creatures referred to as pocket monster or more commonly as pokémon for short. Pokémon were very competitive creatures that could use paranormal powers and abilities to battle one another. Some people were licensed to train pokémon for battles against other trainers as they were referred to. Although some believed this was cruel, pokémon were happiest in combat or other tasks that challenged their abilities.

Despite the common image of a trainer as a traveler who traveled the countryside in search of pokémon, collecting badges, and fighting bad guys. The real trainer was a more humble person. Few could afford to travel on extended journeys and usually settled in a town at a trainer dorm. Trainer Dorms were cheaper than apartments because the state government provided some funding and had facilities to rejuvenate and deal with minor injuries pokémon suffer in battle as well. From there, they take day trips to neighboring areas to search for pokémon and battle other trainers. The state tournaments were held during that state’s fair and were open to all licensed trainers but only the best trainers were willing battle in such an event.

*******************

Miss Catalpa pulled into a blacktop driveway beside a three story, red brick box of a building. The windows were evenly spaced and glowed brightly yellow from the lights inside. The headlights faded and the engine quieted. She opened her door and popped open a black umbrella and stepped out under it. She relocked the door and slammed it shut.

She walked around to the front door at the top of cement stairs. As she stepped under the cantilevers she closed her umbrella opened the door. She collapsed the umbrella and dropped it in a pot and looked up. The main lobby was expansive and went all the way to the huge grated skylight on the top of the building. The second and third floors were attached to balconies that ran the perimeter of the main room with stairs at the back corners that connected the floors. Doors lined all but the front wall for the dorm rooms. At the back of the room on the ground floor was a bank of pigeon holes for the mail and the door to her suite. The wall lights were the only source of illumination except the dim grayish blue light coming though the skylight.

She grabbed a clip board hanging on the wall. Although the dorm had seventeen suites, only ten were occupied. Each name was written in the slot of their suite.

After clearing her throat she read off the names. “Room 3A, Bert.”

A muscular young man in his early twenties emerged from one of the rooms on the highest level. He had thick ink black hair and a short beard of the same color and texture. His typical attire of a flannel shirt and blue jeans hid is bulky figure. “Here,” he responded.

“Room 3D, Thomas.” Miss Catalpa read off the next name on the clipboard.
A gaunt man in his mid twenties emerged from another room on the top floor on the back wall. He had bushy brown hair and shifting blue eyes. He was wearing a blue bathrobe with black pajama bottoms. He walked timidly out onto the balcony. A Spinarak extended down to his eye level. He screamed and ran back into his room, slamming the door behind him. The Spinarak was also frightened and crawled under the balcony to hide.

“I’ll take that as a ‘here’.” Miss Catalpa sighed and shook her head the direction of his door. “Room 3F, Marcy.”

A dark skinned girl in her late teens came out of a room on the wall to Miss Catalpa’s right. Her long black hair shimmered weakly in the dim blue light as she stepped out to lean over the balcony. She too wore bathrobe but it was yellow with a pink night gown under it. “Here,” she yawned.

“Room 2B,” Paul.” Miss Catalpa continued to read off names.
A young man about the same age as Bert came out onto the second story balcony. He was thinner than Bert but not as much so as Thomas. His blond hair was very short and stood on end. He wore a white pocket T-shirt and black genes. “Here,” he responded.

“Room 2C, Pauline.” Miss Catalpa looked at the room next to Paul’s.

Pauline was Paul’s twin. She had the same color hair but it fell to halfway down her back and was as straight as possible. She was wearing a white jersey with red sleeves and the symbol of the Red Wings on the front and a white pleated mini skirt. “Here,” she said as she leaned on the balcony railing.

“Room 2E, Gregory.” Miss Catalpa moved on to the next name.

There was no response.

“He’s here.” Bert explained. “He’s probably just in the middle of one of his crazy experiments.”

“Greg,” Miss Catalpa bellowed, “are you here?”

A man came out of the room. He was a scrawny man around twenty years old. His black hair was in a mess and the lab coat he was wearing was visibly worn in some areas. A pair of taped eyeglasses hid his eyes. “Uh, here ma’am,” Gregory looked down to her.

A Magnemite came out and bumped into Gregory’s back. After shaking it off a little he spoke in a high pitch robotic voice. “Tesla here too, Tesla here too, Coil.”

Miss Catalpa shook her head. “Room 1A, Irene.”

A very tall yet slim, serpent like woman came out of the room nearest room to the left. Her very light colored hair was short and gave her the appearance that she was older than the early twenties she actually was. Her black T-shirt was loose fitting and didn’t quite make it to the top of her hip hugging jeans. “Here,” she answered.

“Room 1B, Sarah.” Miss Catalpa cleared her throat again.

Sarah was the youngest of the residents, only in her mid teens. She was small for her age and was rather frail. She slowly kept out from behind her door. She flicked her brown hair behind her shoulder as she turned to Miss Catalpa. She was wearing a sky blue dress that came down to almost her knees. “Here,” she said softly.

“Room 1D, Franklin.” Miss Catalpa turned to her right.

Franklin was the oldest resident of the dorm in his mid to late thirties. He was clearly of African decent as he came out of his room. He kept his curly black hair short and was clean shaving. Like Bert he was a very muscular man but slightly shorter. He wore a cream V-neck sweater with a white T-shirt underneath and black slacks. “I’m here Emily.” Here answered with a deep booming voice.

“And room 0A, Al.” Miss Catalpa read the last name.

Everyone looked to the stairs that led to the basement. There was no response.

“Hey Cellar Dweller,” Bert growled with more than a little annoyance in his voice, “get you’re sorry rear up here.”

“I’m coming.” A male voice answered from the basement. Then there was a crashing sound. “Oh that hurt.”

Everyone sighed and shook their heads and covered their faces with their hands in exasperation. Then they heard clanging coming up the stairs.

A tall lean young man of about twenty came out of the basement with a bucket on his left foot and a mop on his head. He was wearing black carpenter pants and a white T-shirt with “Don’t Shoot the Weather Man” printed across his chest. “I don’t see why you people can’t put this crap back in the closet.” He complained.

Everyone shot him an annoyed looks. “Uh,” he took the mop off his head to show he had short blond hair covered by a navy blue baseball cap with a yellow “M” embroidered to the front and laughed weakly, “here ma’am.” He threw the mop on the floor and pulled the bucket off his foot.

“Now that I have everyone’s attention,” Miss Catalpa motioned with her hands for everyone to come to the ground floor, “I have an announcement to make.”

“Are they going to tear this place down?” Franklin asked.

“That’s yet to be decided and why I’m calling this meeting.” Miss Catalpa explained. “The board is deadlocked and has agreed that a pokémon battle will determine the fate of the dorm.”

“No doubt that witch will try to use her money to win.” Marcy scoffed as she stepped onto the main floor. “She’s wanted this property for nearly a year.”

“Not mention the Supreme Court gave her the right hit us with an immanent domain claim.” Al snorted.

“I don’t care how or why this has happened but I’m now depending on you to save this dorm.” Miss Catalpa broke in. “Can I trust you?”

“I think I speak for everyone when I say you can count on us.” Irene spoke up and the others nodded in agreement. “This is our home and they’re not taking it without a fight.”

“Yeah,” the others yelled.

“Thank you.” Miss Catalpa then looked at the rain falling onto the sky light. ‘I just hope we can win.’

**************************

Ms. Corona was pacing in front of a diorama of Oak Town in her office. Her office walls were stained oak paneling and the ceiling was white with large white unlit ceiling light in the center. There were various pieces of vintage furniture the same color as the walls. On some shelves were various books. Behind her desk was a large window with beige curtains parted to allow the sun in. The sunlight obscured the view of the outside.

The Route MI1 Corridor was very built up as shown by the model. However, across from the cemetery between 12 and 13 mile was the trainer dorm and some trees to the side of it. She scowled turned away from it.

“Vacant land is so hard to come by on Route MI1 but that dorm has been taking up space.” She thought out loud as she sat down behind her massive wood desk. “No matter, though. I just have to win one stupid pokémon battle and the property will mine to do with as I please.”

She looked down at her phone and smirked. She picked up the receiver and dialed a number. She then waited for a reply.

“May I help you ma’am?” A female secretary’s voice responded.

“I need you to find the best trainer for higher in the state, no better, best in the Lakes region.” Ms. Corona explained. “Money is no object.”

“I’ll get right on it.” The secretary hung up on the other end.

Ms. Corona replaced the receiver onto the base. She then began a malevolent cackle.

*******************************

“Machoke,” Bert barked, “slam him with a Seismic Toss.”

“Ma,” Bert’s Machoke grabbed Franklin’s Hitmonlee and held him over his head.

“Mon,” Hitmonlee squirmed hopelessly.

“Choke,” Machoke then jumped backwards to pile drive Hitmonlee.

“Hitmonlee, plant your feet and counter it.” Franklin spoke up.

“Lee,” Hitmonlee shot his feet as his segmented legs extended and curled to plant them onto the ground. He then straightened his legs, flinging Machoke violently into the ground.

“Choke,” Machoke groaned flat on his stomach.

“Mon-lee,” Hitmonlee flexed his arms in triumph. He then offered a hand to help Machoke back to his feet.

“Crap,” Bert took out a poké ball. He activated the return beam and red beam shot out and enveloped Machoke, dissolving him and drawing him back into the ball. “You got me again old man.” He extended his bulky hand out and Franklin shook it.

The light beams collided and seemed to battle. In the end the blue light own out and slashed through and bathed Arbok. The massive cobra like pokémon faltered and collapsed, asleep in the grass.

******************************

It was a perfect late summer day with clear blue skies. It wasn’t too hot as a gentle north wind rustled through the leaf covered branches of the trees. It was not uncommon for the trainers to use the small woods beside the dorm for training on days like these. However, this time was different. With their home’s fate in the balance, they had to be at the very top of their game.

Al however spent most of the time asleep under a large oak tree with his pokémon. This made few of the others mad but not as much as it enraged Bert. Bert had never liked Al. He was goofy and seemed to screw off which made Bert very mad.

Al was in his usual spot, sleeping with Grovyle, Psyduck, and Electrike, in the shade. Bert marched up to the four of them. He then Grabbed Al be the shirt and lifted him up.

“Wake up to lazy idiot.” Bert yelled, waking Al.

“What,” Al said groggily.

“You know what.” Bert growled. “The battle is tomorrow and you’ve done nothing but sleep everyday. Maybe you didn’t hear but if we lose this battle we lose our home.”

“I know.” Al yawned. “However, getting all worked up over it won’t help us now. Will it?”

“I swear to God,” Bert slammed Al into the oak, “if we lose this battle because of you Cellar Dweller, I will personally make sure you don’t have to worry about where you’ll be living.”

“Bert,” Franklin walked up to the two, “put him down.”

“But he’s doing nothing while we train.” Bert huffed as he let Al fall on his rear end on the ground.

“I think he’s got the right idea.” Franklin patted Bert on the shoulder. “Your rage is clouding your judgment and not even a month of training could help you win like that. Train yourself before you complain about how others train their pokémon.”

Sarah and Gregory were standing a tree nearby. They had watched the whole thing as Bert threatened Al and Franklin stopped them.

“Those two are like oil and water.” Sarah thought out loud. “They’ve never gotten along since Bert moved in.”

“Bert is very angry person and seeing Al being laid back like that only makes him madder.” Gregory sighed. “This stress about Corona Corp. trying to tear down the dorm hasn’t helped matters.”

“Why doesn’t Al train with the rest of us?” Sarah asked. “I mean, he’s a great trainer but I never see him training unless he’s in a battle.”

“A couple of the others said they saw him training at night.” Gregory explained.

“I see.” Sarah looked curious at Al who had nestled back into his spot and yawned. “What a weird guy.”

***************************

Upon Ms. Corona’s request, they found a mercenary to battle for her. He was simply known as Mark and was said to be the best trainer for hire in the state. He was a messy skeleton of a man with oily black hair and a messy goatee. He wore a black leather vest and black jeans.

He was sitting Ms. Corona’s office, across the desk from her. He had his arms crossed as he looked around.

“You’ve got a pretty nice set up here lady.” Mark spoke up.

“I wouldn’t normally deal with the likes of you.” Ms. Corona said coldly. “However, I’ve been forced into it. If you succeed, you will be well rewarded.”

“I just have to beat up a couple of trainers.” Mark gave a laugh. “Sure, I’m in.”

“Good,” Ms. Corona smirked.

*************************

“Alright people,” Miss Catalpa clapped, “the battle is in less than an hour. We’ll be choosing the trainer to represent us by chance. Write your name on a sheet of paper.”

“We’ll put your names in this…” She then looked at Al’s filthy hat and stuck her tongue out in disgust. She put the hat back on Al’s head and pulled it over his face. She then took a waste basket and dumped the few crumbled pieces of paper in it out. “…waste basket.”

The trainers folded there pieces of paper and threw them into the waste basket. Miss Catalpa then mixed them up. Everyone was hushed as she rustled the paper.

“Al’s the trainer for this battle?” Bert snarled. He then shot a sharp look at Al.

Al smiled meekly in response.

“We’re screwed.” Bert threw up his hands in futility.

“Good luck Al.” Franklin walked up to Al and offered him a hand shake. “I think it’s best one of the first residents fight for it.”

“Thanks old friend.” Al shook Franklin’s hand.

********************************

The Chairman of the town council rolled up in a shimmering black car. It was a drab day with a canopy of clouds hanging over Oak Town. As he stepped out of his car, the others came out.

“A great day for a battle I guess.” He shut his door and walked to the front of the building. “I’ll be serving as your referee.”

Just then another black car, much larger than the chairman’s pulled onto the driveway. Ms. Corona came out the back door as well as Mark. “I’m here with my trainer.”

“I knew she’d get a mercenary to do her dirty work.” Paul sneered.

“It’s about noon so let’s step over to that clearing and get this over with.” Ms. Corona said with little emotion her voice.

*************************

Al and Mark stood at opposite ends of a large clearing. The others were gathered off to the side. The chairman stood in the center and glanced at the trainers to either side of him.

Al looked over at the people standing to the side. Bert raked his thumb across his neck like he was slitting his own throat with his thumb nail. Al knew exactly what we meant and gulped dryly.

“Alright gentlemen,” the chairman explained, “this will be a single battle with each of you using three pokémon each. All Michigan laws and rules apply, do you agree to them?”

“Yes,” Al and Mark said at the same time.

“Alright, we’ll choose who goes first by coin flip.” The chairman took out a quarter. “Mark, as the visitor you may choose.”

“Tails,” Mark chose, “not that it matters.”

The chairman flipped the coin into the arm. It landed in the grass with heads facing up.

“It’s heads.” The chairman picked it up. “Al, do you want to go first or second?”

“Second,” Al took the option to release his first pokémon second. It would give him a chance to release a pokémon with a type advantage against Mark’s. Considering Mark’s reputation, he’d need every advantage he could take.

“Then you may begin now.” The chairman took out an air can and gave off an extended blast.

“Let’s go Magmar.” Mark threw a poké ball forward.

The spherical device bounced along the ground and then opened to release a flash. Once it faded, a Magmar stood in the clearing.

“Mag-mar,” Magmar said dully.

“Fine,” Alex took out his own poké ball, “then I’ll go with Psyduck.”

Al’s poké ball opened to allow Psyduck to burst into existence.

“That’s you’re first pokémon?” Mark laughed. “This match is as good as won. Magmar, attack it with a thunderpunch.”

“Mag,” Magmar smirked as he clenched his fist. It seemed to spark with electric energy. He then charged toward Psyduck. “Mar,” jabbed at Psyduck.

“Psy,” Psyduck adjusted his body so Magmar’s electric punch came into nothing but air.

“Counter him with Water Pulse.” Al ordered.

“Duck,” Psyduck seemed to charge something in his bill and then fired a ball of glowing water right into Magmar’s chest at point blank range.

“Mar,” Magmar exhaled as he flew backwards and bounced across the ground once before coming to rest several meters away.

“One…two…three…” The chairman stopped counting when he saw Magmar slowly get back to his feet but staggered dizzily.

“Alright,” Gregory clenched his fist eagerly, “Magmar was knocked silly by that attack and he’s now confused.”

“It’s alright Psyduck.” Al returned his fallen pokémon to his poké ball. “You did what you could.

Al took a closer look at Heracross. He was more injured than he first appeared to be as he seemed to not be able to maintain his balance. No doubt his mind was recovering from the confusion assault from Psyduck. Al nodded as he grabbed another poké ball.

“Grovyle,” Al threw his second poké ball out onto the field.

“What the Hell are you doing Cellar Dweller?” Bert yelled at him. “Grovyle is at a complete disadvantage here.”

“Like it matters,” Mark grabbed Al’s attention, “an advantaged attack is useless unless if it can’t hit its target which will be very hard, trust me. Heracross, let’s make things interesting with a double team.”

“Hera,” Heracross smirked as he seemed to split into multiple directions.

“Gro,” Grovyle blurted as he soon found himself surrounded.

“Now not only do you not know which is real,” Mark said confidently, “but you won’t have the faintest of where my attacks are coming from.”

“Grovyle, close your eyes.” Al gave Grovyle an unusual order.

“He’s lost it.” Bert turned away.

“Heracross, finish him with Mega Horn.” Mark said gleefully.

“Her,” Heracross launched himself and his illusions at Grovyle.

“I can’t watch.” Marcy covered his eyes.

“Vyle,” Grovyle extended the leaves on his wrists to form two glowing blades and blocked Heracross’s attack.

“Say what?” Mark blurted.

Al just stood there with a smirk on his face. Double Team was very tricky move to deal with on both execution and interception. Many simply played sour grapes and called it a cheap move relying on luck but any informed trainer knew it was much more than simple luck. Double Team had two failings. The copies were just illusions and so created no shadows and no sounds so the real one was easy to pick out if the opposing trainer or pokémon knew what they were looking and hearing for. So it would take skill to create formations that kept the opponent from guessing the real one. Stopping a double teaming pokémon took skills of its own. Because it was overcast, Al and Grovyle had to rely on Heracross’s noise to find the real one. Al’s night training where he trained his pokémon to use their hearing as much as their sight in battle helped this. Since they came from all sides, it was easy to pick the direction and block.

“Gro,” Grovyle strained as Heracross tried to force his way to him. Grovyle planted one knee to try to strengthen his position.

“You might have seen through my trick but Grovyle is still toast.” Mark let a little hint of cockiness show in his voice as a smirk cracked over his face.

“You keep telling yourself that.” Al turned back to the grappling pokémon. “Duck under him Grovyle.”

“Gro-vyle,” Grovyle complied and fell backwards.

“Her-ra,” Heracross who had been putting all his strength into trying to get to Grovyle found himself speeding forward out of control.

“Now attack him with Dragonbreath.” Al ordered the finishing blow.

“Gro-vyle,” Grovyle was still half on the ground when he turned to Heracross and expelled a stream of green flame right into Heracross’s back.

“Her-ra-cross,” Heracross smashed right into a popular tree with enough force to cause it to quake. He fell on his back unconscious.

“One…two…three…four…five…six…seven…eight…nine…ten, ” the chairman counted and then coughed, “Heracross is down for the ten count and Grovyle is the winner.”

“Vyle,” Grovyle slashed his blades through the air, very content with his victory.

Mark grumbled as he returned Heracross, defeated, to his poké ball. How could this nobody be so good? No matter, he had something up his sleeve.

“I must say you’ve put on a very good show.” Mark lightly clapped. “However, it’s time I ended this show. My last pokémon will be Skarmory.

Skarmory burst onto the field. “Skar” he shrieked.

“Skarmory, attack with drill peck.” Mark commanded.

“Ska,” Skarmory tucked his metallic wings in and began spinning like a drill bit.
He turned toward Grovyle. Grovyle was barely able to dodge as Skarmory spun past. Skarmory then turned around for another pass.

“Grovyle, counter it with Dragonbreath.” Al watched as Skarmory headed for Grovyle.

“Vyle,” Grovyle spat out another flame stream but Skarmory sliced right through it and struck Grovyle squarely.

“Gro,” Grovyle smacked into a tree and fell to the ground.

“One…two…three…four…five…six…seven…eight…nine…ten, ” the chairman looked over to Grovyle who was clearly unconscious, “Skarmory wins.”

“Care to release my last victim or will you just throw in the towel?” Mark chuckled.

“I’ll take neither.” Al returned Grovyle to his poké ball and threw out another. “Electrike, let’s finish it.”

Electrike took the field and stared at the metallic bird carefully.

“Electrike, attack with spark.” Al commanded.

“Trike,” Electrike howled as he charged Skarmory.

An envelope of electrons seemed to form over Electrike’s body as he ran for Skarmory. Skarmory in response took to the sky.

“Electrike, use the trees to get it.” Al ordered, apparently frustrated.

‘Brilliant,’ Mark thought, ‘that puppy has to be in close to attack, meaning I can remain just out of reach and attack from there.’

“Elec,” Electrike jumped off one of the trees and launched himself at Skarmory.

“Ska,” Skarmory dodged.

“Now, attack him with Secret Power and finish the job.” Mark laughed loudly.

“Ska,” Skarmory loosed a white beam with his beak that hit the helpless Electrike in the back.

“Trike,” Electrike yelped as he landed on the ground hard.

“No,” Miss Catalpa couldn’t believe it.

“One…two…” the chairman stopped as Electrike slowly rose to his feet.

It was then a white light seemed to engulf the field. Electrike’s body seemed to temporarily dissolve and then reform. The new form was larger and taller.

“Don’t tell me.” Ms. Corona looked on in disbelief.

“Mane,” Electrike, now a Manectric howled.

“Wow,” Al said in amazement.

“Don’t just stand there,” Pauline shouted, “you have a battle to finish.”

“Right” Al shook his head out, “Manectric, take that bird out of my sky with a Thunderbolt.”

“Thunderbolt,” Mark exclaimed.

“Mane,” Manectric’s yellow fur seemed to glow brightly as a massive discharge of electrons was loosed and arced right into Skarmory.

“Ska,” Skarmory shrieked in pain.

After taking the full brunt of the attack, Skarmory plummeted back to earth. He slammed into the ground and plowed through it. Electricity arced across his body as nerves misfiring caused random body parts to twitch.

“One…two…three…four…five…six…seven…eight…nine…ten, ” the chairman gleefully said “ten”, “Skarmory is down and the winner of this match is Manectric and Al.”

“You may have won this battle,” she said with more than a hint of frustration in her voice, “however, the war is far from over.”

“I don’t get it,” Mark returned Skarmory, “why didn’t you use thunderbolt from the very beginning.”

“I wanted you to assume then Electrike only knew spark.” Al explained. “I don’t know about me, but you a big *** out of you and your employer.”

“Why you little punk,” Mark snarled, “how dare you toy with me?”

Mark was about to charge Al when Bert grabbed Mark by the arm and pulled it behind them. Mark exhaled in pain.

“He can do what he damn well pleases.” Bert explained. “You however, will get off of our property or I will rip this arm from its socket.”

“He’ll do it to.” Al chimed in.

“Shut up.” Bert snapped.

“Fine,” Mark wrenched his arm free, “I’m going.”

“Miss Catalpa,” the chairman walked up to the group, “I’m pleased to announce that your property will not be taken by the rules of immanent domain. Good day to you all.” He then walked back to the front of his building and his car.

“Great going Al,” Bert shook Al’s hand so violently all of Al shook, “I never doubted you for a second.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Irene gave a laugh. “So, what should we do to celebrate?”